Pieces of Our Past
by EleanorTheRigby
Summary: Harry wants to learn more about the person his godfather had been. Unfortunately, Grimmauld place isn't the most helpful place for that. What he does manage to find hidden away isn't at all what he expects and raises more questions than it answers. T for language and some discussion of violence.


_**A/N:**__ Pieces of the Past is a re-write of a short companion fic I posted on my old account ages ago. If it seems familiar at all, that could be why (or it could be that I wrote something that's already been done countless times, which is pretty likely). Unlike its previous incarnation, it's fairly spoiler-free. Some of this is because of editing and some is because it's no longer a companion-fic. I do have a longer marauder's work in progress, but the plots do not dovetail like they once did (there is some overlap in backstory, but the ending and the characters of focus are different)._

_Either way, I hope you read it and enjoy it! As always, feedback is encouraged, loved, and kept in jars underneath my bed, alongside the tears and souls of my enemies._

* * *

><p>Harry pushed the door open and peered into the dusty old room. He knew the locket wasn't in there; the room had already been searched a number of times and by several people. But he wasn't looking for the locket. He was looking for the person. Sirius was gone, but the room had been his and still had a lot of his things. There were still plenty of things Harry could learn about his godfather and father's best friend. He just needed to know where to look.<p>

Harry wandered through the room, gazing at the things in the room that had been Sirius' growing up. They said plenty of things about the boy and the teen, but nothing was really speaking to him. As quickly as the idea had struck him, it was dwindling away into disappointment and despair. Sirius was dead. This was pointless, and Harry was wasting his time. He lingered, though, because there had to be something. As he moved to sit on the bed, a floorboard popped up under his foot. He'd been in the room several times, as had Ron and Hermione, but none of them had found that.

He crouched down, examined, and then pried up the floorboard. The area inside was more expansive than he would have guessed. There was a thick stack of envelopes and three small photo albums. A rush of excitement shot through Harry and he greedily pulled them out of the floor. He dropped heavily onto the bed, sending up a large cloud of dust as he stared at the top envelope. Harry set aside the photo albums and stared at the letters only. All were addressed to the same person.

Curious, Harry picked up the one at top and pulled out the bit of parchment inside.

_July 1966  
><em>_Dear Sarah,_

_That's your name, right? Everything happened so fast, I'm not sure that I'm remembering your name right. That's so stupid – not being sure I have a _name_ right or not. I guess I might as well go with that for the time being. _

_Today was one of the first times I've ever hated my mum. All you wanted to do was show me the park down the street, but she screamed at me for ages, calling me a 'blood traitor' for talking to you. Muggles can't really be as bad as she says, can they? She kept screeching that I shamed this family. All we did was talk._

_I wish I knew where to send this. I'm staring out my window, hoping to see you run by again._

_I wish we could be friends._

_Sirius Black_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_August 1968  
><em>_Dear Sarah,_

_It's been two years since we met that hot day and I haven't seen you since. Was it my imagination? Did I dream it? My parents say all sorts of things about muggles that make no sense. You weren't aggressive or rude to me at all. I see other muggles out my window and they seem calm and they just mind their own business. Mum and dad say that you're all savages with no refinement and that it's only a matter of time before wizards finally get over this "bleeding heart nonsense" and do something about you all. It makes no sense – none of it. It's hard listening to them when they start talking about it. I find myself disagreeing with them not just because of the opinions, but also just because of how they say it. Muggles aren't animals. They're people too. _You_ are a person too._

_I just wish I could see you again so that I can know for certain I'm right._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_July 1971_  
><em>Dear Sarah,<em>

_I got my letter from Hogwarts today. Right, you don't know what that is. It's a school for people like me – magical folk. I can perform magic. I wish you weren't a muggle. I wish you were going to Hogwarts too. My mum keeps going on and on about how much I'll love it there and how great Slytherin is. I don't _want_ to be in Slytherin. I don't want to be anything like my family. I don't want to be cruel and cold like my father. I don't want to be abusive and angry like my mother. I wish my brother wasn't such a people-pleaser. I wish he wouldn't listen to my mum and dad whenever they rant about the muggles. I wish he didn't look at them like they were gods who know everything._

_The upside of going to Hogwarts I guess is that I won't have to see them at all until Christmas time._

_I wish it were September 1__st__ already._

_And, of course, that you were going too and I'd see you there._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_December 1971_  
><em>Sarah,<em>

_I found you._

_After five years of staring out my window and writing these letters I found you at school. We didn't even realize it until today. What are the odds that we'd grow up on the same street, only a few houses away? If I hadn't witnessed it all myself I'd think that it was just a joke or a clever story told by someone else. But it's real. A muggle I met in the summer of '66 isn't even a muggle at all. It's mind-boggling._

_Summer holidays are going to be so much better from now on._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Harry put the letter back into its envelope and glanced once more through the tall stack. He couldn't decide if any of them had actually been sent or not. They all seemed to be in good condition. Of course, if Sirius had written and sent them, then he wouldn't still have them now. Sarah (whoever she was) would have them (wouldn't she?). It made no sense either way – either Sirius had written a whole bunch of letters he'd never meant to send, or somehow they had all been given back to him.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_November 1972  
><em>_Sarah,_

_I'm sorry for keeping things from you. We didn't want to hurt you on purpose; we just couldn't start spreading the news that Remus is what he is. I don't think you understand just how big this is. People like him face a lot of unfairness in the wizarding world (I'm pretty sure he can't ever adopt a small furry creature, like a rabbit). If people knew about it, well, who knows what could happen? He might be forced to leave Hogwarts. We didn't want to exclude you, but it was Remus' decision whether or not to tell you and when. It's his furry problem, after all._

_I'm sorry. Please, I miss you. Come back to us._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_December 1972  
><em>_Sarah,_

_You're really getting good at your photography. Just wanted to let you know._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Unable to reign in his curiosity, Harry set aside the short note and picked up the first of the albums he'd pulled out of the floor. Right away, on the first page was a moving photograph of a teenaged Sirius, James, and girl with long dark hair and light eyes. Harry's father and Sirius looked about the same age as they did in the Pensieve those years ago. Despite most of the action being between Sirius and this Sarah, Harry had eyes only for his parents. He stared at his father's face, marvelling at how much it resembled the one Harry saw every day in the mirror. Harry reached behind his head and felt his lips twitch into a smile – his hair in the back was standing up _exactly_ like James' in that photo.

Most of the photos were just of the four boys – Lupin, Wormtail, Sirius, and James, but the girl was sometimes replacing Wormtail and sometimes she was in the place of Lupin. Every so often, Harry would get punched in the gut when he'd see the girl with Harry's mum, the two of them laughing at some joke told across the years that still made their eyes come alive in the moving photos. In some cases there was another girl with dark hair and loads of freckles (almost as many as any of the Weasleys). A caption at the bottom of one made Harry think of another moving photo he'd seen just before his fifth year –

"_That's Dorcas Meadowes. Voldemort killed her personally."_

The more photos he saw of his parents and their friends, the more he searched the photos hungrily for the smallest details. There were pictures of them in Hogsmeade, with other people their age, sitting in the booths at The Three Broomsticks that Harry had shared with Ron and Hermione on countless occasions. There were pictures of the boys, the girls, or any mix asleep in the Gryffindor common room. It looked so much like the times Harry had been in those seats that it was another punch in his gut. There was a photo of a sunset looking over Black Lake and Harry _knew_ that it'd been taken from under the same Beech tree he had liked to lounge with Ron and Hermione. It was the same tree that the infamous Marauders had been lounging under after their Defence theoretical in the Pensieve. There were Quidditch matches, pranks (his favourite was someone on a mattress floating on the Black Lake), Christmas gifts, the Hogwarts Express, Diagon Alley, the Great Hall, even a younger-looking McGonagall scolding a haughty-looking Sirius in what looked like class.

Seeing his parents in so many of the places he knew was surreal. For all he knew, he'd been in the same dormitory as they had been. There were even pictures of them at something that looked like the Yule Ball (though Harry knew that Hermione would be quick to say that it couldn't _possibly_ be the Yule Ball because that was a Triwizard Tournament-only type of event that didn't occur in their century at all except for the one Harry had been in). No matter how many pictures Harry looked at (or stared at), no matter how many pages he turned, he couldn't get enough.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

He got to the last page of the last of the albums he'd found in the floor and stared at the books and letters with a weight pressing down on his shoulders and back. Nearly everyone in the albums was now dead. As thrilling as it had been seeing his parents in more photos than just the ones Hagrid had gathered for him, there was no one to put the scenes in context. He wanted someone looking over his shoulder who could say _"That's Sarah"_ (whatever her last name was) "_when we won the Quidditch Cup thanks to some lucky scores by the Chasers!_" (Or whatever had caused them to win the games he'd seen the celebrations of in the albums). He wanted to know how Dorcas Meadowes had gotten the scars that only appeared in later photos. He wanted to know what his father's first thought was when he opened his seventh-year letter and saw the Head Boy badge inside.

It was with another forlorn glance at the books that Harry returned to the stack of letters. After seeing so much life and movement, going back to the written word was a bit anticlimactic. Even so, Harry kept reading throughout the day. Even when Ron or Hermione came to tell him about meals, he would get some food and then just go back to the room.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_October 1974  
><em>_Sarah,_

_I can't begin to tell you how relieved I was when you stood up today. I thought you'd died. I wanted to sock Greene right then and there. It's just a game; did he have to hit the bludger like that? You ended up catching the Snitch in the end and you still laughed and had fun with us after the game, but for a moment my heart stopped._

_I love you. I really do. If anything happened to you, I don't think I could handle it._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Harry blinked in confusion. Something about the idea of Sirius in love didn't sit right. He examined the stack, which was fairly large. Maybe it had just been a short phase. Surely if there had really been something there, Harry might have found out about it by now, somehow. That seemed like something that would have come up _sometime_ in all of the reminiscing. He moved on through the pile.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_January 1975  
><em>_Sarah,_

_How could you do this to me?_

_I thought you felt something. All that time we spent together over holiday, was it meaningless? You didn't jump onto Prongs' bed to surprise us. You didn't jump on Moony's either. It was mine. But you don't feel anything at all? Can't you see how much I love you? How much I want you for myself?_

_Do you not see or do you not care?_

_James tells me that I'm obvious. So I get the feeling you just don't care. All those times I've protected you, all those gits I got back at for what they did to you, and you throw it away to be with _him_. I can't believe you could do this to me. You want to snog some pretty boy 5__th__ year? Well I'm sure that two can play at that game._

_Sirius_

_P.S. I meant that I'd be snogging pretty _girls_, not boys._

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

O-o-O-o-O

_May 1975  
><em>_Sarah,_

_I'm sorry._

_I wish I had the courage to say it to your face. I wish I hadn't been such an idiot. I wish you could someday forgive me. _

_I don't really deserve that, though, do I?_

_You look so tired all the time and you never eat. How can I claim to love you when I'm so willing to hurt you like that?_

_Shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. How many times do I need to write it before I can finally just _say_ it? It's kind of pointless to ask all of this to a piece of parchment though, isn't it?_

_Are you downstairs?_

_..._

_I finally did it. _

_I finally got the courage to talk to you. Am I a Gryffindor or what?_

_Did you really forgive me? You seemed to, but then you closed up and ran away. Did you forgive me? Is something else going on? I need to know, but you've gone to your bed and I can't follow you there to ask you. Well, I probably _could_, but I don't think the results would be very pretty._

_I'll try in the morning._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_June 1975  
><em>_Sarah,_

_I want to kill them._

_They did something so horrible to you that they earned detention for their remaining days in Hogwarts and the only reason they weren't expelled is because of a lack of proof? I want to crush their skulls in my bare hands. I want to stick a knife in them, and slowly at that, so that they suffer. I want to cast the Cruciatus Curse on them. I want to pull their limbs off like wings of a fly._

_I want them to suffer. I want them to die._

_I want to know what they did and then I want to punish them for it. It's not right that you're living in so much fear and they still strut through the halls like no one can touch them. It's not right that you go through each day like you're in some sort of daze or alternate reality and they laugh during meals like the world is such a wonderful sunny place._

_They don't deserve any of it. They deserve a fist knocking out every single one of their teeth. They deserve to have their eyes scooped out with a spoon or speared with a knife. I want to beat them senseless until they can't sleep either from the pain they're in._

_No one will hurt you like they did ever again._

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Harry stared at the piece of parchment for a long time. He'd always known that Sirius had a temper, but this was almost terrifying. He couldn't deny, though, that his curiosity was peaked. He wanted to know what these guys did too. None of the detention records he'd had to sort through in his detentions with Snape those months back had anything so extreme to warrant weeks or months of detentions. Then again, he'd been working in different years.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_November 1975  
><em>_Kit,_

_Why can't you stay on your broom? It terrifies me when I have to watch you falling 20 feet to the ground._

_Padfoot_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_December 1975  
><em>_Sarah,_

_You might have been joking today, but I wasn't. I do want to snog you. More than you could ever know. I want to wrap my arms around you and kiss you. I want you to kiss me back. I want to touch your soft skin. I want to do things that I've only seen in movies or read in books. I want you to sneak into the boy's dormitory and crawl into my bed. I want to… damn. I want to do it all._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_February 1977  
><em>_Sarah,_

_I thought you were going to die tonight._

_Again._

_That's too many close calls._

_When I realized that you were the animal we heard crying out in pain, my heart stopped. When I saw you in the lake I feared the worst. When you lost consciousness I nearly lost my mind._

_I can't bear the thought that I might lose you and that you'd never know how I feel about you or how much I want you. I tried to show you and you thought I was just 'caught up in the moment'. I wasn't. When you kissed me back it was the best moment of my life so far. I want more of it. I want more of you._

_I want you more than I could say._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_August 1977  
><em>_Sarah,_

_When will you stop running away from this? It's not like you're the only one who's scared or hesitant. Do you think I'm in some mad rush to settle down or any of that shit? Because I can assure you that I'm not. I just want what feels right and _you_ are something that feels very right. You're not just another girl to me. You're not a notch in the belt or whatever other nonsense Marlene's been filling your head with._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_August 1978  
><em>_Kit,_

_Why the fuck did your family have to go all the way to France? It's ridiculously stupid here without you. And by ridiculously stupid, I mean bloody awful. You need to get back here. Pronto._

_Padfoot_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_November 1978  
><em>_Kit,_

_I hope Auror training is awful because that's the only thing that will possibly make me feel any better about how little I get to see you these days._

_Padfoot_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_April 1979  
><em>_Kit,_

_You're so busy all the time; I barely get to see you. At least you'll be at James and Lily's wedding next weekend. Or at least, you better be. They said you would be there, and if there's one thing to be said about you (okay, there's a lot to be said, but you know what I mean), it's that you're pretty good about keeping your word._

_I still can't believe it – _Prongs_ is getting hitched. Who knew, all those years ago, when he and Lily would be screaming in the common room about how much they hated each other, that they would one day be getting ready to say, "I do" to each other? Okay, I did, but that's beside the point. Who else _besides_ me saw this coming? Not Professor Soryo, I can tell you that (but I don't really need to, since you took two years of Divination). It's absurd._

_I just can't wait to see you._

_Padfoot_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_October 1979  
><em>_Sarah,_

_Come back. Please come back. I didn't get to ask you. I didn't get to do any of it. You ran off and I wasn't ready. I know I should have stayed calm and helped you calm down so you wouldn't do anything rash (you always do something rash), but everything was just going too fast and I needed _time_. We both did, but you ran away before we could work it out. I'm not mad, I promise. I SWEAR. I just want you to come back so we can fix this. Please._

_Please come back._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_April 1980  
><em>_Sarah,_

_It's been six months. I miss you everyday. Please come back. I need you. We all need you. Things are getting worse. You'd never believe some of the people who have been exposed as Death Eaters. It's getting to be that you can't trust anyone._

_Please come back. I love you._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_July 1981  
><em>_Sarah,_

_Happy birthday. I wish you were here so I could actually say it to your face._

_But maybe it's better that you aren't. Things are getting bad. __Moony__, well__, _Remus_ is acting strangely. I'm scared that we can't trust him anymore. I don't want to believe it, though. Peter is hardly ever around. He's terrified and hides out all over the place. _

_Lily and James' son is about to turn one. His name is Harry James Potter. He has her eyes, but what little hair he has sticks up all over the place – just like Prongs. They've made me his godfather. __If__, I mean, _when_ you come back, you'll likely be his godmother. You'll love the little guy. _

_If we were to ever have kids (you know, when we're like, 40 or something) I want them to have your eyes. I love your eyes. I always have. They have the slightest hint of blue that shines through when you wear blue or when you're flushed. I want our kids to be like you. Smart, caring, and always up for some fun. _

_But I don't want them growing up in a world like this._

_I'm scared, Sarah. I really am. I need you here. Please. Please come back._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_October 1981  
><em>_Sarah,_

_Last night was the greatest night of my life for so many reasons. I'm eagerly counting down the days to when you get back. Nearly a week with Lily and James, and then a day with Peter. Then you're back here with me indefinitely. I'll make you so happy._

_I could get you a ring. We could get married. It'll be a fantastic wedding with lots of our favourite music and dancing. We can even have kids. How many should we have? No matter. James'll be godfather, naturally._

_God, one week?_

_This is torture._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

There was only one letter left and it looked long.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

_Sarah,_

_It's been fourteen years since I found you. Fourteen years since I lost everything. Did you see it all from where you are? I hope not. I hope you didn't have to see what's happened in that time._

_What was it like, dying? Sometimes I wish I had as well. Words cannot express how much I miss you. I promised that I would keep you safe. I promised that coming back to Britain wouldn't be a mistake._

_I miss your laugh. I miss the shine in your eyes when there are sweets placed in front of you. Hell, I miss you calling me names and insulting me. I miss the way your nose crinkles when you're being sarcastic. I miss how when you're studying, you look up every few minutes with a faraway gaze in your eyes as your mind tries to put together all the little pieces._

_The day I lost you I lost James and Lily as well. Are they with you?_

_I remember that night… too well. God, I wish I didn't._

_I wanted to surprise you. I got on my motorbike that terrified you so much at first. I went to the hideout you were sharing with Peter. I was going to pick you up and take you home. I was so excited. The lights were on and I ran up to the door._

_But no one answered. Kit, why? Why did it have to happen?_

_Peter was gone. You were in the kitchen. Your wand was lying in pieces on the ground beside you. And the blood…_

_It's my fault._

_I brought you back here. You left because you were scared. You'd had too many brushes with Death Eaters in school and afterwards. You were terrified of staying here and so you left. I brought you back._

_I let you go visit Peter. I wanted you to stay with me, but you convinced me. You promised that you'd be careful and stay safe. You promised to return to me. I relented and let you go. I should never have let you go. You promised._

_But now you're dead and it's my fault._

_It was obvious you'd been tortured. I'm sorry, Kit. God, I'm so sorry._

_I ran then, to Godric's Hollow, like you told me. Lily and James were dead. At least they didn't suffer like you undoubtedly did._

_I wish I could say that was the end of it._

_You know me. I wouldn't let the person who did this get away with it so easy._

_Remember how a long time ago I said little Peter wasn't a good wizard?_

_He bested me, Kit. He made it look like I killed Lily and James. He made it sound like I was responsible for Lily and James' deaths. Then he blew up the street and was gone._

_He got an Order of Merlin._

_I got thrown into Azkaban._

_Remember when you confronted me in our fifth year about Snape and the fiasco with the Whomping Willow? You kept saying that if I kept behaving like I was that I'd end up there. I cleaned up my act – I really did. But I ended up in there anyway._

_You can't imagine what it's like in there, Kit. At first, all I could think about was the three of you. I'd just gotten you back. We had one night together and then you were ripped from me again. Why could we never be together? In school you nearly always ran away. After school you were scared away._

_Now I'm "home". I'm back in Grimmauld Place. I've snuck out a few times, just like in the good old days. A small family lives where yours did. They have one girl and one boy._

_I never wanted to come back here. Of course, you would remember that. I was _supposed_ to never come back here. When I'm here I can only think of getting away, which reminds me of sneaking out during the holidays and spending the day with you at your place. I can't stop thinking about you._

_That's not entirely true._

_When Harry and the others are here, it helps. He looks just like James, you know. Except for his eyes, which are just like Lily's. When other people are here, it helps. I can think about the present. But he's still at Hogwarts and can only come for visits. He's a good boy. He doesn't get into trouble like we did, but he means well. He has a heart of gold, just like his parents. I'm so proud of him. You only spent a week with him and he'd never remember you, but you'd be proud of him too._

_They're only around for visits. The rest of the time I'm here with only the damned house elf. I can't stand it, Kit. I miss you everyday. I have your whole collection of photo albums and I think I'm wearing out the spines just so I can see your smile._

_There's a problem. I have to go. Harry and his friends are in danger in the Ministry._

_Sirius_

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Harry dropped the letter, his eyes glazed over. Sirius had been writing this when he'd found out about Harry and the others being in the Department of Mysteries. He'd written this the day he'd died. Harry scrambled to his feet and began tearing through the room. 'Collection of photo albums' sounded like more than just the three that were under the floorboard. There might be more. They'd be around the room somewhere; they would have to be.

Finally he found them underneath the pillows on the bed. He sat heavily on the mattress once more and opened a blue one to the first page.

Sirius looked like he had in Snape's memory. He was young, handsome, and his arm was wrapped around the shoulders of a short girl with dark hair and grey eyes. There hadn't been any photos like this one in the other three albums. The shot seemed so private, somehow. Like something you'd see from a couple.

Harry stared at the photo for several minutes. She _was_ fairly pretty, he supposed, but there was something else. She had _spunk_. Maybe it was just from reading the letters, but Harry could tell that she was a fun person. And he could tell that they were in love.

Harry spent hours pouring through the photo albums. The majority of the pictures were of Sirius, this girl and his father. Sometimes Lupin or Wormtail were included, but more often they weren't, in contrast to the other albums he'd already flipped through. Also not seen in the other albums were the numerous shots of Lupin with that Dorcas Meadowes (he was pretty sure he liked Tonks better, though).

Harry turned a page and saw a familiar scene. It was his parents wedding, but a different photograph. In this one, Sirius and the girl were sometimes kissing and sometimes laughing as they gazed into each other's eyes. Scrawled across the bottom were a number of messages:

"_It's about time!  
><em>_Love, Lily"_

"_What took you two so long?!  
><em>_-James"_

"_So when will your wedding be?  
><em>_Peter"_

"_Finally!  
><em>_-Remus"_

"_Get a room!  
><em>_-Love, Doe"_

Harry smiled as he read the messages and looked at the photo. The two of them looked so happy. He could almost feel the aches in their cheeks as his own happy memories swirled around him. Winning the House Cup in his first year. Hagrid returning to school in second year. Winning the Quidditch Cup in third year. Being invited to live with Sirius in third year. Defeating the dragon in fourth year. Being with Ginny in sixth year. The grins on their faces made him remember every happy memory he'd ever had. The way they held each other, with their spines curving inwards, unable to be close enough, no matter how much they touched reminded him of every embrace he'd had with Ginny and every photo he'd ever seen of his parents. There was so much love, so much happiness, just in that photo, that, as cheesy as it was, it might have been its own anti-Dementor defence.

With a painful stab he remembered that things didn't stay happy.

Harry tossed the album aside and brushed his hair back with a sigh. It was Voldemort. It was always Voldemort. Without him, no one would have died. He'd have his parents; Neville would have his own parents as well. Sirius would still be alive and so would this girl. Without the influence of the Death Eaters, maybe they would have been together in school. Harry might have had siblings and perhaps some of his friends would have been Sirius' and this girl's children. Maybe Lupin and "Doe" might've gotten together (though he _still_ liked Tonks better) and Harry would have more friends that had been their children (though he doubted it).

How could so many bad things happen to one person?

He knew Sirius wouldn't want Harry feeling sorry for him, but he didn't rightly care.

It just wasn't right.

"Harry?" he heard Hermione call.

"Coming!" he called back, standing up and leaving the room. As he closed the door, he noticed that the photo album had been left open to the picture of Sirius and Sarah from his parents' wedding. Their smiles and the ecstatic messages scrawled on the page contrasted grossly with the overwhelming disuse and sadness of the room. It shone like an obnoxious beacon that begged to be smashed.

Harry left it like that and closed the door.


End file.
